


Smoky sweetness

by Volky888



Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Belt kink, Dirty Talk, Light Bondage, M/M, PWP, Touch Denial, basically they bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 16:47:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20585765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Volky888/pseuds/Volky888
Summary: The first time Santino tastes bourbon, it's on the tongue of a man with dark hair and rough hands.





	Smoky sweetness

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place when Santino is in his early 20s. I imagine John was less grim when he was a younger, less reserved in some regards.
> 
> The title really is just the result of me googling “what does bourbon taste like” because I haven’t had the chance to try it myself yet.

Like any self-respecting man of the System, Santino was raised with impeccable knowledge of fine Italian wines, which he adores and drinks liberally. Wine is one of the few things in life he can truly appreciate, it helps wash away some of the less savory parts of the nature of his family business.

The first time Santino tastes bourbon, it's on the tongue of a man with dark hair and rough hands.

They'd met at the bar of the Continental Hotel in Rome. Santino had spent the whole day running negotiations with some Triad representatives, and although he was pleased that the meetings had ended on good terms for both parties, he still felt exhausted enough to seek the comfort of a good drink at the well-stocked bar. What Santino hadn’t expected to find was the handsome yet rugged looking man taking slow sips of liquor from a clear crystal glass.

Santino’s eyes lit up instantly as he spotted the man. There’s a face he recognized from photographs only, Gianna had hired the man a while back for a job. Clean hit, no messes, no complications; his sister had been rather fond of the sheer efficiency of the hitman. Unfortunately Santino did not get a chance to meet him back then, having been away on a business trip to Spain. But then again, few men actually had a desire to come face to face with John Wick himself, death’s very own emissary.

John continued to sip down his drink, seemingly staring into space as his dark eyes gazed in the direction of the shiny bottles behind the bar. Santino slid into the chair next to John with mischief in his eyes, and ordered himself a glass of wine. He quietly regarded the man next to him with a slight smirk tugging at his lips, making no effort to hide his interests, until John turned a little towards him and quirked a questioning eyebrow. Dark brown eyes pierced Santino with an intensity that made his pulse quicken, and Santino’s smirk widened as his face heated slightly with excitement.

“I don’t believe we’ve met before, Mr. Wick.” Santino began, “I’m -”

“Santino,” John cut in, raising his glass towards his lips as something similar to a smile graced his lips, “Gianna mentioned she has a brother.”

Santino leaned on the bar; he usually took great offense at being cut off mid-sentence, but the way that John had done it with such audacity made Santino almost pleased that they could skip introductions. “I do regret not having the chance to meet you last time, Mr. Wick. I’ve heard much about you from my father and sister.”

John hummed, “That’s all I am to most people, a story.”

“I’d really rather if I got to know the person behind the stories,” Santino said softly, leaning in a little closer.  
To Santino’s surprise, John chuckled. “I’m afraid there really isn't much to me, Mr. D’Antonio. I’m just another man earning his living.”

“In the same way Michelangelo was just another man earning his living, I suppose.” Santino smiled back, “And please, call me Santino.”

“John, then.” The dark haired man replied.

“John.” Santino purred out, feeling the name roll off his tongue. The man in question seemed to be paying more attention now, blatantly giving Santino a once over that sent sparks of excitement to the Italian’s belly. He was feeling a little bolder by the time John finished studying him, eyes now intensely fixed on Santino’s own clear green ones.

“Like what you see?” Santino teased. Maybe they could move this up to the hotel rooms if he played his cards right.

“You’re prettier than your sister.”

Santino almost choked on his wine.

With laughter in his eyes, John turned away to finish his drink.

“Could I interest you in Italian wine, or did you really come all the way to Europe just to drink American Bourbon?”

“I’m not nearly fancy enough for wine.”

“Please, you run around shooting people wearing thousand dollar suits. You are fancy enough for wine.”

John quirked an amused eyebrow, touching his beard with his hand to hide a smile. Santino felt his heart stupidly skip a beat like a teenage schoolgirl, and the promptly scowled at himself for it.

“Have you ever tasted bourbon?” John asked.

“No.”

“Want to know what it’s like?” John asked, holding Santino in an even gaze.

Santino flicked a glance at the empty glass of bourbon in front of John, and nodded slowly. To his surprise, John leaned in and kissed him, one hand cradling his cheek to hold him in place. Santino was dazed only briefly, overwhelmed by the taste of smoky sweetness of the bourbon on John’s tongue and the intense heat that seemed to radiate from his lips, consuming Santino from the inside. Once Santino recovered from the initial shock of John’s sudden action, he leaned into the dark haired man’s touch, eyes gleaming in the yellow light of the bar, biting back and hungrily demanding more.

He had to admit, not everyone had the gall to simply grab a Camorra leader in public and start kissing them, even on Continental grounds it was almost cause enough to trigger bloodshed. Yet the ease and confidence with which John had done it was so intoxicating that Santino rather liked the possessive grip that John now had on him. Santino relished in the taste of the older man’s mouth devouring him, his beard scratching Santino’s chin with each movement. This was it, the _audacity_ about John Wick that had always set him apart.

When John pulled away, Santino felt like his body was on fire. He wanted more. Needed more. His fingers itched to touch the skin beneath the black suit that John was wearing. John, for his part, still had his hand resting against Santino’s face, licking his lips with an amused look on his face. The air between them seemed thick enough to be cut with a knife, and Santino was suddenly glad he gave Ares the evening off - there would be no interruptions to what was shaping up to be a very exciting night.

“If you want,” Santino said, voice huskier than he remembered it being, “We can move this upstairs.”

John did not say a word, merely reaching into his jacket pocket to retrieve a gold coin, which he left on the counter before nodding at Santino to follow him.

Santino had an odd sense of being a herbivore blindly following a tiger into its den as they made their way upstairs.

John’s suite at the Continental had to be one of the best there was. The manager didn’t exactly keep it subtle that they liked to play favorites. As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, they were intertwined again in a heated kiss, hands roaming freely now that they are out of the public eye, undoing ties, loosening buttons, discarding jackets… John’s large callused hands gracefully undid Santino’s belt in a single fluid motion, and the sound of the leather slipping out of their loops made Santino’s breath hitch.

John, perceptive to a fault, noticed. He held onto the leather belt with one hand, draping it across Santino’s shoulder, lightly brushing his neck where the skin was exposed. Santino cursed as he failed to stop the tremble that shook his body, the sensation and promise of what John could do to him with the belt sending blood rushing to his already thickening cock.

“You want to keep playing with this?” John breathed against Santino, biting on the Italian’s ear lightly as he dragged the belt fully around Santino’s neck. “It’d make a pretty necklace for you, or some very sturdy cuffs.”  
Santino supposed that fear and arousal could go hand in hand, although he had never experienced it before. It seemed to him that only a man without a shred of survival instincts would let a killer like John Wick tie them up, and yet he was about to do exactly that.

Groaning, Santino backed John into the huge bed in the room, straddling the larger man and eagerly removing his shirt to expose scarred and inked skin, hot to the touch as Santino finally was able to roam his hands over every dip of tight muscle, tense with want and yet so, so soft. John allowed him a minute to greedily touch every exposed bit of skin before untucking Santino’s own shirt and pulling it over the Italian’s head, humming appreciatively at the smaller man’s toned body and tanned skin. Santino smirked, gasping as John wordlessly bean kissing his neck, sucking and biting, teeth pulling flesh but not enough to break the skin. Santino’s mind felt like it was short circuiting, unable to focus on anything other than the feeling of John’s mouth on his body, their erections rubbing against each other through fabric, sending jolts of pleasure through them both.

In his distracted state, Santino hadn’t even noticed when John had tied his hands up with the belt. His hands were bound in front of him, neatly and incredibly securely, as he found when he tried tugging on his constraints. He looked at John carefully to find the man smiling a little, admiring his handiwork.

“You’re infuriatingly beautiful,” John said, gaze slowly tracing from Santino’s bound hands to his chest, his collarbones, and finally his eyes.

Santino could only manage a small laugh in response before it was replaced by a gasp as John roughly flipped them around, Santino’s back hit the soft mattress, and before he could readjust to their new position, John had already lifted his bound hands to the headboard, hooping the constraints through a decorative piece in a way that kept Santino’s arms above his head. With his torso exposed, Santino let out a shuddering breath as he looked with hooded eyes at the larger man now looming over him. Desire flooded him, he wanted to kiss, wanted to taste, wanted to touch; he strained a little against his bounds, yet he was more or less at the mercy of the Bogeyman with his hands tied by harsh leather, he would only get what pleasure John gave him, and he would be used in turn for John’s pleasure. It was perfectly exciting.

John seemed to be taking a moment to commit Santino’s form to memory before all of a sudden he lowered himself and started licking and nipping on his nipple, roughly pinching the other with his hand. Santino managed to choke out a string of broken curses as he threw his head back and felt his hips buck instinctively. With his free hand John gripped the smaller man’s hips tight, almost a warning as he glanced up at Santino through his now disheveled hair. Santino bit back a moan as John continued to tease his hardened nubs, sensitive and red from the attention. John continued, his pinches grew harder to the point of pain, and Santino couldn’t help but cry out a little from the sharp feeling. John stopped then, instead planting soft kisses on his nipples with enough softness to be an apology. While Santino’s breathing evened out a little, John quickly removed Santino’s pants and underwear, finally freeing his straining cock and leaving his whole body on display.

Santino has never been shy about nudity, but being held under John Wick’s gaze like this was something else entirely. John’s gaze was intense, heavy, and filled with lust. He studied Santino’s body almost reverently. Softly tracing fingers across the smooth expanse of silky skin, feeling Santino tremble and shudder under him. John’s touch pointedly avoided Santino’s cock, leaving him aching and wanting, every muscle in his body tense with lust. The larger man deliberately mouthed at Santino’s supple thighs, sucking and biting gently, his beard scratching against sensitive skin. Santino hissed at the sensation, precome leaking onto his belly as John kept teasing him.

“John.” Santino breathed out, bucking his hips and desperately hoping to be touched, for any friction at all.

John pulled away from Santino’s thighs, keeping his gaze on sea green eyes as he removed his own pants, giving Santino a good view of his own generous, thick length. Santino’s eyes widened appreciatively before his gaze darkened as John started to stroke himself instead of touching Santino. John let out a sigh as he touched himself, relieving some of the tension that had been building up from ignoring his own erection for so long. He kept watching Santino even as he stroked himself languidly, rolling his hips lightly to put on a show. A string of curses left Santino’s mouth, and John merely watched with amusement as the Italian bucked and strained against his constraints, legs kicking lightly at John.

“_Stronzo_, if you don’t touch me soon I’m going to put a bounty on your head.” Santino hissed out.

“How frightening,” John mused, “Now how ‘bout you ask nicely instead?”

Santino visibly bit down on his lips, for a second tensing so that his whole body ceased movement. Then he relented.

“Please,” He said, eyes fixed on John, “touch me. Please.”

“Look at you,” John all but growled, “Prince of the Camorra, tied in my bed, begging me to touch you. You look so good like this.”

Santino was about to snarl at him when the larger man suddenly descended upon his mouth again, kissing him roughly until there was a taste of blood on his tongue. Any protests Santino may have had were muffled and drowned out, his moans swallowed by John as John took both their cocks into one large hand and began pumping them both, rocking his body lightly to match the rhythm. After being denied any touch for so long, Santino nearly saw stars as his aching cock was pressed against John’s, the pressure of John’s grip just right to make them both gasp. Santino moaned unabashedly, realizing that the sound of his own mewling was drawing out moans from John.

The two men were lost in each other, John’s head against Santino’s neck, their bodies pressed against each other as John rocked them both. Santino hooked a leg around John’s firm torso to keep them even closer, he could feel the tension building to a breaking point in his body.

“_Ah_. John, _John_…” Santino cried as he came, shooting across their chests, his body tensing and arching as waves of pleasure consumed him. He bucked wildly against John, his arms straining against the leather belt so hard that he was sure there would be bruises the next day, and John kept his grip on Santino’s cock firm even through his orgasm, prolonging it until Santino’s brain was completely overwhelmed with the sensation.

John followed Santino’s orgasm with his own, coming with a growl and panting heavily against Santino’s ear, spreading his seed all over Santino’s belly. He was half propped up with one arm, but now he slowly lowered himself until he was almost lying right on top of Santino, sweat dripping from strong muscle as he shuddered at the force of his own orgasm. When he had caught his breath a little, he nuzzled against Santino’s ear, biting and licking gently, slowly working his way to plush, bruised lips, already swollen from kissing, and hungrily devoured them again and again. Santino’s lips felt like velvet against his own.

John sighed contently as he realized the younger man appeared exhausted, his long lashes dropping with heavy lids as he fought off the sleep. John wasn’t usually one for sentimentality, but he found Santino to be oddly endearing. So he gathered himself up into a sitting position besides the Italian, gently untying the belt that held Santino’s hands. His wrists were bruised, as expected, and John kissed them apologetically. Santino huffed as John slowly rotated his wrists, massaging and stretching them gently after being tied up for so long. Then he grabbed a towel from besides the bed and cleaned up Santino as best as he could, while the younger man stretched out with a satisfied smile.

“Didn’t think you’d be such a gentleman afterwards.” Santino mused out loud.

“Would you prefer if I left you tied up for housekeeping to find?” John tilted his head at Santino.

Santino laughed. “Come here,” Santino opened his arms in invitation, “I’m way too tired to be functional, let’s leave the rest for tomorrow.”

John gladly obliged, climbing into the young man’s surprisingly intimate embrace as they relaxed against each other, both worn out from the day and each other. John ran his fingers gently through messy dark curls as the Italian drifted off to sleep, his face falling into an uncharacteristically innocent expression.

Maybe he should take on more jobs based in Italy, if Santino still wants him around in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter @volky888  
curiouscat @volky888  
pls talk to me abt john wick


End file.
